


Corpus Lingua

by vivianne_leigh



Category: BioShock, BioShock 2
Genre: Abandonment, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), Nonverbal Communication, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianne_leigh/pseuds/vivianne_leigh
Summary: For a man with no mouth, Subject Delta makes himself stunningly clear.





	

 

She wasn't sure what to expect, once they were face to face.

 

It wasn't quite what she had expected- then again, the years of dreaming had warped her expectations into fairy tales, and she was having trouble untangling herself from them. But he was _here_ now, with _her_ , familiar in a way that made her heart ache.

 

Distance aside, however, ~~Subject Delta~~ Father was closed off to her, unreachable; not in the way of cages and gates, but in communication- there was no way for them to reach each other, embrace or even _touch_ without the heavy presence of his armor.

 

It bothered her as they traveled through her mother's territory, cutting swathes through the splicers that rushed to block their every move. The moments seemed to blur together as she wrestled with her own expectations: waiting, for some reason, for a voice that wasn't coming, from a face she couldn’t even see.

 

There was no need to worry; they were a team. Father and daughter, reunited at last.

 

_Right?_

 

The questions haunted her as they pushed forward; she could feel the doubts pressing invisible weight against her chest, weighing heavier and heavier in her until until she worried she’d tear through the floors and fall, like a stone, right into the trench.

 

_What if he didn't care ?_

 

_What if she was just a path to escape?_

 

At the time, she had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the unwelcome thoughts, pretended not to notice the traitorous whispers.

 

That had been hours ago, at least. Now, with Father at her side and Little Sisters at her back, there is enough time.

 

When she realizes she’s seeing the sun ( _the sun!_ ) her memory comes back to her in a rush, filling the gaps- he hadn't spoken, not even the shortest word, but he _had_ been there for her- radiating a quiet attentiveness she had all but missed in the heat of battle and the scramble of escape. But now, with the ocean gently rocking the lifeboat and the sky painting itself in pinks and purples, she had nothing but time to reflect.

 

He had held her hand when her mother had started calling for her over the intercom- the thick leather of the gloves had stunted her sense of touch, but she'd noticed the warmth in how he'd handled her, a caring reverence only highlighted by the traces of incinerate still smoldering in his system.

 

 _Eleanor, I know you can hear me,_ her mother's voice had rained down on her, as awful and all-encompassing as a storm. It was only with his grip and her own will that Eleanor had not floated away, borne aloft by her mother's words and false prophecy. He only let go when the speakers faded into silence, seemingly pleased with the quiet that followed.

 

And the health packs- she hadn't seen him scavenge much, or even use a vending machine, but the health packs seemed to flow like water around him, consistent and plentiful. He'd always push one into her hands when the splicers got to be too much- even, she realized, when he himself looked a few blows away from collapsing. Just once, she’d tried to resist, push the packet back into his hands, and in response he'd caught her wrist and deliberately pressed the box into her palm, using his free hand to nudge her fingers into curling around the edges. Startled by his insistence, she had looked into his face, only to be met by the reflection of her own helmet in his faceplate. The air had felt heavy for a minute, almost like time had stopped. Gently, he’d released her hands, and she meekly pulled the kit to her chest.

 

A Little Sister gently plucked at her arm suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts- the girl pointed to Delta, almost immobile save for the slow rise and fall motion of his chest.

 

Darting around the child, Eleanor dropped to her knees beside her father, lacing her fingers between his larger ones. As she did so, the past few hours together began flooding her mind- the health packs, the hand holding, the way he’d taken special care to shield her from the brunt of the bullets, the worst of the violence. The memories stunned her, knocked her breathless- every wordless touch, everything he had done for her was flashing before her, blurring so quickly before her eyes she almost missed the way her vision was distorting into a kaleidoscope of tears. Before she could move to wipe them away, another recollection pushed into her head- forgotten at first, but it eclipsed her mind in a surge and held her enthralled.

 

* * *

 

 

They had just finished off the worst of the berserk Alpha series and were both worse for wear- Eleanor's helmet had large dent, her suit was ripped, and Delta’s tank was leaking, incessantly. She had taken it on the chin and moved on, holding it together, until she had stumbled upon a lone corpse- a splicer, alone, curled into themselves and clutching a raggedy doll. The blank, already putrefying eyes had held her gaze, and before she could brace herself, she felt something inside her crumble into nothingness. There, in the gutted prison kitchen, Eleanor ripped off her helmet, flung it against the window, and began to cry. The noises that left her mouth were almost feral, shaking her shoulders so hard she thought- hoped- she was falling apart. Behind her, she could hear -and feel- Delta’s footsteps coming to a stop.

 

“I'm never leaving here, am I?” She breathed, only vaguely aware of the misery in her voice. Without lifting her head, she continued, feeling her fists white-knuckle from the force she put on them.

 

“I...I'm _never_ going up to the surface... And you, you're just -- you're -- you're just what? Going to **_die_ ** ? You’re...” her voice disintegrated again and she stood there, listening to the sounds of her own weeping. Quietly, with a lack of sound surprising for his size, he placed a large hand on her shoulder, watching as she turned to face him. Eleanor was painfully aware of how disheveled, how incredibly _pathetic_ she looked- her face felt flushed, swollen with her helmet hair sticking out at odd angles and tears trailing down her face only to dry in sticky, uncomfortable lines.   
  
“I’m sorry.” she whispered, though she couldn’t bring herself to explain further.

 

Wordlessly, they stared at one another, her through a haze of tears: him, through an inch of industrial glass. Before she could pull away he reached up, both arms extended, and he- he-

 

He _hugged_ her.

 

The smell of leather, steel and blood invaded her nose, overwhelming- but she grabbed onto him with a strength that surprised even her, as if she could hold him tight enough to keep him from death. “Oh, Father.” she whispered, resting her chin in the juncture of his helmet and shoulder. “Where would I be without you?”

 

In response, he’d traced small, soothing circles against her spine until her breathing settled, then disentangled himself, before picking up her helmet and holding it out to her expectantly. She’d given him one last teary-eyed, grateful smile before slipping it back over her head. He’d patted her back, gestured to the stairway leading out, and that was the last time they’d had a moment to themselves.

 

Pulling herself out of her daydreams, Eleanor swallowed thickly and leaned over her father, watching the motions of his breathing slow as his body began shutting down. In order to keep herself together, she whispered to him: words of gratitude, of understanding, of thanks to the one who had saved her- they felt like not enough, but they were all she had to give, so she kept speaking even as she pushed her needle into his chest and watched his ADAM sluice into the glass container. He was fading, and fast- the pairbond between them felt like sand in a hourglass, the time rushing between her fingers faster then she could grab. She was crying again, lips pressed into a thin line, but she refused to let herself wipe away the tears.

 

It was the least she could do.

 

As she withdrew the cold steel, she felt him tremble- an almost invisible tremor that rolled through his body. She could feel him pulling away, and she let him- squeezing his hands hard enough to bruise, she watched as his breathing became jerky and erratic, already knowing what was next. Lost, she tilted her face upwards, biting her lip hard enough to bleed. Something touched her hand and she jumped, startled. His other hand had covered hers and squeezed weakly, unwilling to leave without a goodbye. She squeezed back and closed her eyes.

 

Finally, his chest sped up, so fast it was almost heaving, until it just... stopped. A last sigh left him, almost an afterthought, and deep in her chest Eleanor felt something in her go still, like a snuffed light.

 

Ignoring the concerned voices of the girls milling around her, Eleanor Lamb laid down and wept for the only real parent she’d ever had.

  



End file.
